Walking through the field in gloves
May. 19th, 2005 10:37 amThis is one of my favorite poems:
To a Fat Lady Seen From the Train
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
--by Frances Cornford (1886-1960)
I first came across this poem in a book by M.E. Kerr, a '70s-'80s era YA author. I loved it--loved its rhythms and the metaphor of someone refusing to let beauty touch them, denying life's sensuality. The grass is soft as the breast of doves, shivering-sweet. Love that. It always stayed in my head, and I even came up with a parody of it for HIH Tatiana (my horrible sweet kitty):
Why do you stalk through the field in white gloves,
Hissing so much and so much?
O fat striped kitten whom everyone loves,
Why do you stalk through the field in white gloves,
When your fur is as soft as the breast of doves,
And kissably sweet to the touch?
(That last line must of course be said in a special Tatiana-voice.)
Apparently I'm not the only one who was inspired by this poem:
( Read more... )
To a Fat Lady Seen From the Train
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
--by Frances Cornford (1886-1960)
I first came across this poem in a book by M.E. Kerr, a '70s-'80s era YA author. I loved it--loved its rhythms and the metaphor of someone refusing to let beauty touch them, denying life's sensuality. The grass is soft as the breast of doves, shivering-sweet. Love that. It always stayed in my head, and I even came up with a parody of it for HIH Tatiana (my horrible sweet kitty):
Why do you stalk through the field in white gloves,
Hissing so much and so much?
O fat striped kitten whom everyone loves,
Why do you stalk through the field in white gloves,
When your fur is as soft as the breast of doves,
And kissably sweet to the touch?
(That last line must of course be said in a special Tatiana-voice.)
Apparently I'm not the only one who was inspired by this poem:
( Read more... )